


Unless it’s a serial killer

by Daughters_of_Dystopia



Category: Sherlock (TV), Suits (US TV)
Genre: Donna Paulsen is a Badass, First Meetings, Gen, Indian Character, Mentioned Mycroft Holmes, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 04:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14228991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughters_of_Dystopia/pseuds/Daughters_of_Dystopia
Summary: “Unless it’s a serial killer, I am not interested.” Sherlock had no time for petty crimes.“Mr Holmes, We require aid. There are some charter, of rather classified nature that has been pilfered. It is of utmost importance that we recover them at our earliest. This entire trip has been a fiasco of such depth that Dante himself shall have trouble navigating.”Sherlock raised his eyebrow. That seemed melodramatic.





	Unless it’s a serial killer

**Author's Note:**

> A crossover between Suits and Sherlock With a hint of RPF
> 
> Do follow us on: https://www.instagram.com/daughtersofdystopia/

Sherlock sighed.

“I am booored! John. Bored I tell you”

“John?” No one replied. Sherlock sighed again. It had been three days since the last case and there was no relief from his boredom in sight. He couldn’t even continue with the experiment on the rate of spread of Fungi on human skin. It would take another day for the sample to be ready.

He was just contemplating taking out his violin when there was a knock on the door.

“John, there is someone at the door”

A minute passed.

Another knock, it was precise, soft but not weak.

“Ah, a woman” Sherlock mused. With elegance you wouldn’t expect from the lanky detective, he got up and practically ran to the door. Outside the door, there were two people standing. A woman, red hair, American, her eyes speak sin, her dress uttered elegance. Her eyes continuously absorbed everything around her while her ears were alert. She must be a secretary but a bit more that that. Accompanying her was a man, brown skin, Asian, creases on his head, a pen neatly kept in the pocket of his fine suit. A government diplomat, of course.

'May I point you that you have got the address of wrong Mr. Holmes. As much as he tries to get me involved with what he calls an act of national importance and what I dismiss as the utter waste of my expertise, my brother holds no influence on me to help you with your case.' Sherlock said in a flourish and went to close the door. While his curiosity knows little bounds, it was best to keep distance from Mycroft when his brother started dealing with foreign dignitaries. He once again wondered where John was.

But before he could close the door, a hand held the door.

"Your brother did not send us, Mr Holmes", the red head said. "I have read your blog and that of your flatmate, John. I'll be bold enough to say that his writing style has more panache." With that the women entered his flat and after having a look around, she took a seat.

Sherlock was intrigued despite himself and he followed the bold beauty with nary look at the diplomat. As they entered his parlor, the woman was already sitting when Sherlock and the man joined her. Sherlock, once again turned to the odd couple. The man was a politician, he had the air that could be often found around Mycroft. But more than a politician, this man was learned, this was a historian, there was a quality that hinted at academia. Sherlock noticed the peculiar glasses the man had. This was someone appreciative of practical knowledge, ready to acknowledge the offbeat path. There was sweat on his brow. This man was worried out of his mind, but as a seasoned politician he wouldn’t show it. As always, Sherlock saw despite it.

The woman on the other hand looked calm as cucumber. She wasn’t worried, in fact she seemed almost relaxed, as if they were on a morning walk and not at the door of London’s finest consulting detective.

“Unless it’s a serial killer, I am not interested.” Sherlock had no time for petty crimes.

“Mr Holmes, We require aid. There are some charter, of rather classified nature that has been pilfered. It is of utmost importance that we recover them at our earliest. This entire trip has been a fiasco of such depth that Dante himself shall have trouble navigating.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrow. That seemed melodramatic.

“And what charter are these?”

“You don’t have the clearance”

“Do you know my brother? I have more clearance than you.”

“Not with Indian government, you don’t. In fact, I believe you are not that high on esteem at our shores.”

“Ahh, still you dragged your nincompoop ass to my door steps.”

“Donna, I told you. It is our waste of time. He is never getting off his high horse.”

Donna looked at both and smiled. “Men and their egos. I know you both would be tough to play along but watching you two fight like kids have given me the confidence how professional you are. If your petty insults are over, shall we focus on the real situation here.”

Sherlock looked at Donna. “What is this real situation Ms. Donna. The case of the missing charter. I see you have tucked your bag thrice since you have arrived. I must applaud how you have maintained the composure. It's almost impossible to not look flushed hiding information of such import.”

“Donna, What is he talking about?”

“I must say you are as good as i have heard. Mr. Tharoor, the charter was important but you meeting him today was much more. I needed an excuse.”

Tharoor looked at him puzzled.

“Ahh. One not so mystery solved for the less fortunate. Your charter is with Ms. Donna, Mr.Tharoor. But yes, now I’m intrigued. The more pressing matter require both of our attention and it's definitely not a case of a missing charter.”

Donna smiled. “As i have both of your attention, let’s discuss the situation.”

“Mr Tharoor, you told me the story of this Indian farmer, who won the old WWI bond from the British officer stated there, a rather cruel specimen, that one. But a respected one. The bond is worth 3 trillion euros today and the Indian Government was planning to use it as leverage.”

“Not only was that told in confidence, Miss Donna, I am unsure why you remembered that particular snippet. I assure you, Indian government is not in habit of blackmailing its allies, and I would thank you not for insinuating that.” The good Doctor was genuinely insulted. He respected Donna, but his country only meant to use the bond as an historic, if rather empty, win.

“I am sorry, Mr Tharoor. I know we all pride ourselves on our patriotic - “

“You lost the bond” Sherlock summarized. It was obvious to him now. The entire charade, directed by Miss Donna. Mr Tharoor was obviously unaware, he had panicked look on his face. The look of a man who just lost 3 trillion euros

“Come, Let’s find your lost treasure, Mr Tharoor.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's our first work. Very raw. Hope you like it. Please comment your reviews.  
> And hit us on: https://www.instagram.com/daughtersofdystopia/


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